Deadline (Sandra Brown) Read Free Page B

Viagra to take along.”
    “Hmm. She wants you to make up for all the nights you couldn’t come home?”
    “Something like that.”
    “What’s the downside? Knock yourself out.” Dawson raised his glass.
    Headly acknowledged the toast and, after a moment, asked, “So, how’d it go with Dragon Lady?”
    Dawson told him about the meeting and the story Harriet had assigned him.
    “Blind balloonists?”
    Dawson shrugged.
    Headly leaned against the back cushion of his chair and studied him for an uncomfortable length of time.
    Irritated by the scrutiny, Dawson said, “What? You got a comment about my hair, too?”
    “I’m more concerned about what’s going on inside your head than what’s growing out of it. What’s the matter with you?”
    “Nothing.”
    Headly just looked at him, not having to say anything.
    Dawson left his chair and moved to the window, flipping open the shutters and looking out onto the well-manicured patch of lawn. “I talked to Sarah when I passed through London.”
    The Headlys’s daughter was older than he, but, while growing up, the two families had spent so much time together that they’d been much like brother and sister, grudgingly caring about each other. She and her husband lived in England, where they worked for an international bank.
    “She told us you’d ‘passed through’ without staying long enough to go see them.”
    “Flight schedule didn’t allow time.”
    Headly harrumphed as if he didn’t accept that as a plausible excuse to forgo a visit. And it wasn’t.
    “Begonias are thriving.”
    “They’re impatiens.”
    “Oh. How’s the—”
    “I asked you a question,” Headly said with annoyance. “What’s the problem? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Like hell you are. I watched a zombie movie on TV last night. You’d fit right in.”
    Dawson sighed over his godfather’s tenacity. He didn’t turn around, but he propped his shoulder against the window frame. “I’m tired is all. Spend nine months in Afghanistan—trust me, it’ll wear you out. Hostile terrain. Temperature extremes. Bugs that bite. No booze. No women except for the service members, and hooking up with one of them is tricky. A good way for both partners to get into some seriously deep shit. Hardly makes getting laid worth the hassle.”
    “You’ve had time since you got back to find an obliging lady.”
    “Ah, but there’s a problem with that.” He closed the shutters, turned around, and grinned. “You got the last great girl.”
    The levity fell flat. The worry line between Headly’s thick eyebrows didn’t relax.
    Dropping the pretense, Dawson returned to the chair, spread his knees, and stared at the floor.
    Headly asked, “Are you sleeping?”
    “It’s getting better.”
    “In other words, you’re not.”
    Dawson raised his head and said testily, “It’s getting better. It’s not easy jumping back into the thick of things, returning to an ordinary schedule.”
    “Okay. I’ll buy that. What else?”
    Dawson pushed back his hair. “This Harriet thing. She’s gonna make my life miserable.”
    “Only if you let her.”
    “She’s sending me to Idaho, for chrissake.”
    “What have you got against Idaho?”
    “Not a damn thing. Nor do I have anything against the vision-impaired. Or hot-air balloonists. But it’s not my story. It’s not even my kind of story. So forgive me if I’m finding it a little hard to work up any enthusiasm for it.”
    “Think you could work up some for a better story?”
    Headly hadn’t asked that casually. There was substance behind the question. So, in spite of his dejection, Dawson felt a tingle of anticipation. Because Headly hadn’t been only his godfather and lifelong good friend, he’d also been his invaluable and unnamed source within the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
    Taking his silence for interest, Headly continued. “Savannah, Georgia, and its environs. Marine Captain Jeremy Wesson, a decorated war